


come with me

by madnaae



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 3rd person, Fluff, George is smitten, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Angst, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Open Ending, Subtle flirting, They love each other, dream would do anything for george, long distance, no hurt, theyre in love but too afraid to talk about it, train wants to suck a dick so bad pls...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:07:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28188177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnaae/pseuds/madnaae
Summary: based on dream saying [to/about george] “i’m gonna blow up, come with me,”ordream asks george to join him in his future.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 104





	come with me

**Author's Note:**

> context since i can’t find the clip:  
> dream and george were on trainwrecktv’s scuffed podcast a few days ago and they were talking about how dream got started on youtube. he mentioned that when he first wanted to do it, he asked george to join him because he knew he was going to make it big and he wanted to do it together. 
> 
> they. are in Love. your fucking honor.

Was his monitor screen too bright or was it just too late; George couldn’t decide. He was sitting at his desk in an illegally uncomfortable chair, slowly twisting back and forth with his arms wrapped around his middle. He had his head tilted back on the chair, body slightly slumped forward with his tired state. George’s headphones sat atop his head, each muff covering his ear, soundproofing him to the rest of the world. The only thing audible was his friend’s voice. 

“I think those thumbnails with stickers and clip images look stupid. What do you think, George?” Dream asks him. George snaps his gaze up immediately at the mention of his name. Not that he had anyone to look to, as Dream kept his facecam off during calls, but he still felt like he should be looking at the screen. 

George realizes that he must’ve not been paying attention to what Dream was saying and only phoning it in because he has no idea what he’s supposed to reply to. “Um,” he takes a shot in the dark. “It’s not the best,” he says.

“I agree. It just feels like they’re trying too hard. It's kinda like they’re trying to cater to a certain audience instead of broadening it which is just stupid-“ Dream continues and George’s eyes are getting heavier and heavier by the second. His friend has the voice of angels, soft and beautiful, and George could spend hours listening to him talk about anything and nothing all at once. 

That doesn’t mean he didn’t get tired though. 

With their large time difference, it was hard to find big gaps of time to talk in. Currently, it was nearing four in the morning for George while it was barely eleven for Dream. He was exhausted from a long day and decided he wanted to call Dream before bed to say good nights. He should’ve known that saying simple good nights would lead to an hour-long conversation about god knows what. 

Not that he minded. He didn’t have anything important to do the next day and as he said, Dream’s voice was the embodiment of peace. It was no sweat off George’s ass if he was obligated by friend rules to continue to listen. 

However, Dream must’ve noticed George’s haziness. The brunet was always quick to laugh at any jokes he said, and he always made sure to make fun of Dream if he misspoke or had a dumb idea. And Dream was pretty sure he’s had about two dumb ideas and he accidentally said ‘ _shats_ ’ instead of ‘stats’. All perfectly good examples of things that would normally make the Brit yelp with laughter, rendered him quiet as ever tonight. 

George was tired. 

Dream stops mid-sentence, something about watch time in certain countries, and listens carefully. He can hear George’s fan in his mic, it being an abnormally warm fall in London that year. After waiting and not hearing George ask if he was still there, Dream concluded his friend was only half-conscious and probably not taking in a word he was saying. He’d be offended if it wasn’t cute to hear George’s gentle breathing. 

“Hey, George?” he murmurs gently, taking in the silence. A beat later he hears a disgruntled sound back that he can only assume was George awakening and responding in a haze. 

“Do you think I’ll make it?” he asks to the air, unsure if George is paying attention. George blinks, letting his eyes adjust to the computer in front of him. It was _definitely_ a combination of being far too bright and way too late. He reaches a hand up and clicks on the Discord application on his computer and his screen darkens slightly. 

“Um,” he says, his voice embarrassingly cracking with sleep, “you mean on YouTube?” he asks. George brings a hand up to stifle a yawn. Dream smiles to himself when he hears it.

“Yeah,”

“Course I do,” George replies. Because he truly did. Even if Dream wasn’t his best friend, the one person he cared about more than anyone else in the world, he knows the blond has what it takes to make it. He has a work ethic George can only dream of having, and his personality is amazing for being a creator. Once Dream tries something, he sets his mind to. He’s been studying up and reading anything he can lately to get a head start on being a creator and it’s already paying off. Dream was simply such a smart and organized person, on top of being funny and entertaining, George would be dumb to say he couldn’t make it. 

“Will you be here every step of the way; when I become famous? Otherwise, I might forget you,” Dream jokes. George manages out a slight snort and he rolls his eyes. He was glad he didn’t say everything he just thought; it would inflate Dream’s ego too much. 

“Every step of the way,” he confirms. The call goes silent again, as Dream is in thought. He would never, could never, and _won’t_ forget George. He imagines that forgetting George is like forgetting when July fourth was. It was so drastically stupid and impossible that it was truly laughable to think about. He couldn’t even picture waking up and not having George to talk to. And when he tries to picture it, his heart aches and he quickly thinks of something else. 

Because there’s probably a world out there without George, a world where Dream is a hotshot YouTuber with other creator friends and millions of dollars . . . but no George. It sounded like an absolute shit way of life to him. 

He thinks he’d rather be a nobody for the rest of his life than lose George. 

But what would happen if he grew into this self-righteous asshole? If Dream didn’t have time for George anymore because he was too caught up in collabs and videos? Could there be a scenario in which it would be _Dream’s_ fault he didn’t have George anymore? Before this moment, he only thought that George would leave on his own account, but it never occurred to him that maybe he’d simply just drift away from the brunet himself. 

The thought makes him sick. Was there a way to have George by his side constantly? Consistently? In a way that it didn’t affect his career but also allowed him to continue and grow their friendship? He wants to cave in on himself at how cheesy his thoughts are. 

“Dream?” George’s voice rings through his ears. He realizes that he might’ve not said anything in a while, too caught up in his own brain. 

“What? Uh, yeah, thank you. Glad you’ll be here.” he whispers but it’s a little empty. He means it, he truly does. He doesn’t know where he’d be without George. But he can’t help but feel as if he might lose George to his goals. 

“What’s wrong?” George asks him. Dream shrugs even though George can’t see him. He feels a little dumb after that. 

“Just thinking,”

“About what?”

“You,”

“Oh. What about me?” George sucks in a breath that he hopes isn’t picked up by his microphone. His sleepiness is long gone by now, quickly replaced by mild concern for his friend’s sudden mood change from bouncing off the walls to sitting in the dumps. 

“Just worried I could lose you doing this,” Dream admits. There was no reason to beat around the bush if George knew him better than he sometimes knew himself. The brunet would ask until he gave in or found out himself. 

“How would you lose me? I don’t plan to stop being your friend just because you do YouTube,” and George says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Which, Dream supposes, to him it is. He’s not the one who’s time will be divided and occupied constantly. As far as George was concerned, nothing big was happening. 

“Forget about it,” he mumbled, unable to find the words to describe what he feels. 

“Okay,” George says back awkwardly. 

Suddenly, a thought creeps up on Dream like a thief in the night. It’s quick and if Dream were to suddenly think about anything else, he’d probably lose it. He focuses on it and holds it in the palm of his hands. A million scenarios are running through his mind. Being a very ‘numbers’ guy, he was already thinking about the outcomes, the drawbacks, and the pros to his idea. Was it worth putting on the table for George to take a look at? Or should he let it disappear into the earth’s atmosphere without a second glance? 

“George,” he says and receives a small hum back, “what if you joined me?”

The question settles on them like a thick fog. George wonders if his headset cut out for a second because that couldn’t be right? Dream wanted him to join him? In the great grand world of content creating? Why him? George has hardly ever shown interest in that kind of stuff in the years they’ve known each other, so what made Dream think they’d be a good duo together?

“W-what?” George sputters, still shocked. 

“George,” Dream says so fondly it’s sickening, “I’m going to blow up. Come with me. I can’t do this without you. And you can say that ‘blah blah blah, I’ll always be here’, but that’s not a guarantee. I either want to do this with you or not at all,”

George is embarrassed by how fast his face gets red. Dream is passionate about a lot of things and he usually wouldn’t let anything get in the way of accomplishing his goals, but the fact that he would drop all of this solely for George made his insides feel like jelly. Did he really mean that much to Dream?

He’s not an in-depth thinker like Dream is, but he knows that he could handle it. They’re a dynamic duo in their personal lives, why couldn’t they be that online too? Plus, it would be kind of nice for his job to literally be talking to his best friend every day. He feels a flutter in his stomach at literally being paid to have fun with Dream; could it be that easy? 

He was willing to find out. 

“Okay,” he says. 

“Okay? You’d join me?” Dream’s voice sounds hopeful, like a child on Christmas morning. He’s gripping his sweatshirt for dear life, trying to ignore the deafening beating of his heart. 

“I’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked,” George admits, his voice wavering with lack of confidence. 

And he would. George loved his bed, the comfort and warmth of his own home, but if Dream decided to fly to the moon, George would already be fitting himself for a spacesuit. He was smitten for his friend in a completely platonic way - _is what he tells himself_ -, and he was putty in Dream’s hands. 

Dream smiles so hard it hurts his cheeks. His heart was pounding in his chest, practically vibrating with an everlasting amount of love.

“That’s what I like to hear. So we’re doing this?” 

“We’re doing this!” George laughs loudly and Dream glows with admiration. 

They end the call not too much later, George’s tiredness returning with every gentle word Dream says in the mic. He could listen to the other talk for hours. They say their goodbyes, both leaving off a few words they secretly wanted to say. The time didn’t feel right; it would soon though. 

As George crawls into bed and burrows himself in his blanket, he imagines what their future would look like with Dream’s vision. He thinks that next to Dream, nothing is impossible. But maybe they’d go absolutely nowhere, just two more specks in the galaxy that was the internet, inevitably forgotten like most other things in time. 

Or maybe they’d go far; their lives and brands continuing to revolve around each other, and George would have no other option than to speak to Dream daily. He’d wake up and say good morning to Dream, and then they’d film, and maybe stream, and then they’d call till they passed out. Life would be good. 

Either way, his heart and mind were in the hands of Dream, and he’d follow him wherever the blond dragged them along. 

He falls asleep with a small quirk on his lips and a tight grip on his pillow, wishing it was someone else. 

Meanwhile, Dream is perched in his chair, slightly hunched and looking at his computer through half-lidded eyes. He waits until George’s icon has gone from online to offline before shutting down his monitor and throwing himself onto his bed, landing with a sigh. He looks up at the ceiling. 

_DreamandGeorge_ , he thought. It had a ring to it. 

Across an ocean, thousands of miles apart, Dream clutches his pillow close to his chest and buries his face in it. He squeezes it once and chuckles softly to himself. 

_Maybe one day._

**Author's Note:**

> twt: madnaae
> 
> -notes, kudos, and comments appreciated but no worries if not :)  
> -blm, stay hydrated, tell your friends you love them


End file.
